


Click

by HolidayFeartree



Category: Original Work
Genre: Creepy, Delusions, F/M, Horror, Macabre, Original Fiction, Paranoia, Psychological Horror, Scary, Short, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolidayFeartree/pseuds/HolidayFeartree
Summary: Wendy kills vampires just to get by. But do they really exist? Or is Wendy simply mad?
Kudos: 1





	Click

“Scum,” spat Ursula.

She spat on the ground at the man’s feet.

Ursula worked the streets of the city late at night. This man wasted her time. He offered a sizeable payment for her services, which were rejected for a younger, prettier face. Ursula wasn’t unattractive, but she was definitely seasoned. She knew her story would end here, on these streets, collecting one last payment from a man too desperate for his own good.

“What does this younger girl have that I don’t? Tell me that,” she said.

Ursula leaned back against a brick wall. Behind her was the pub where she and the man met. The girl was also a patron that managed to approach the man before he left with Ursula.

“You don’t know what you’re missin’,” She winked at the man.

The man, handsome and well dressed, apologized to Ursula.

“She intrigues me,” he said, referring to the younger woman. He then tossed a 100 dollar bill at Ursula’s feet.

“For your time. Sorry I’ve wasted it,” he smiled.

There was something unsettling about the man’s grin. Ursula felt a chill, even when bending forward to accept his generous donation – a payment she did not receive based on performance. The man was odd to say the least. He was handsome and captivating, and he obviously had money to burn, but she sensed something else about him. Was he the type who preyed on sex workers? A modern day Jack the Ripper? As he left with the younger woman, Ursula could not help but feel relief. She was relieved not to be climbing into his car.

“Poor bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

And as Ursula walked back toward the pub, she briefly wondered how much the young woman would be paid.

* * *

“I’m taking you to a hotel,” the man informed the young woman.

“It’s upscale – don’t look worried. I only reserve my rooms in luxury suites,” he added.

The young woman remained silent as she rode in the passenger seat of the man’s car. He had an expensive Mercedes-Benz, it was the color purple. She watched as road signs glinted swiftly past the vehicle. Rain drizzled across the windshields, turning the world into a blur of lights and wet concrete. She sighed. Clutching her large handbag, the young woman looked vacant – even sad. The man glanced over at her and reached out to touch her dark hair. It hung damp and limp from the rain.

“Such a beautiful neck,” he smiled.

The young woman stiffened.

 _The things I do for money,_ she thought.

The two arrived at the hotel and walked directly into the lobby. There, the young woman observed that it was a very rich establishment. Definitely upscale. The floor was made of dark wood, littered with expensive guest furniture. A chandelier hung in the center directly over a very large, elaborate fountain. Impressed, the young woman hoped to earn more money than she had anticipated.

The two approached the front desk.

“May I help you?” asked the clerk.

“Good evening,” nodded the man. “I’m already checked in for the week – business, you know – but would you mind sending up a bottle of champagne? Top floor. It’s the largest suite. It’s under the name Ellison.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Ellison.”

“ _Doctor,”_ He corrected.

“Yes, Doctor Ellison,” smiled the clerk.

Ellison turned to the young woman and motioned to the elevator nearby.

* * *

Once in the hotel room, the woman discovered it came with all kinds of fancy amenities. A king sized bed, a guest room with a second bed plus a sofa, a full kitchen, hot tub, bathtub, and shower – even a _full_ bar. The woman took it all in, hoping for even more payoff at the end of her evening with Ellison. She placed her handbag at the foot of the king sized bed.

Ellison removed his black suit jacket and loosened his tie, staring at the young woman.

“You don’t speak much, do you?” he said gently, approaching her closer. He reached out and touched her cheek, then moved his hand over her neck.

The woman looked into Ellison’s eyes, briefly. She noticed how blue they were. Entrancing. Hypnotic. His skin was alabaster white and very cool and youthful. He looked young. His cheeks were as smooth as cream. Yet he behaved like a much older gentleman.

“What’d you like me to talk about? I’m yours for the night. You’re paying me to do as you wish,” muttered the woman, avoiding eye contact.

“I am,” replied Ellison. Then he sharply added, “You may remain silent.”

He began to kiss the young woman deeply, and she resisted at first. Hesitating due to his cold touch, she pushed away. His touch was unnatural, but powerful. The feeling of his cheeks and hands against her face felt like cool glass. He was very strong, but continued to hold back as he kissed her. His hands slid across her shoulders, removing the loose straps of her dress. As if it barely hung from her to begin with, the dress fell to the ground. The young woman closed her eyes as she felt his hands continue to remove additional articles of clothing.

Ellison’s grip tightened. She clenched her teeth, waiting for something unpleasant to happen. As he embraced her, she relaxed a bit, unable to fight off a wave of euphoria that mysteriously washed over her. It robbed the young woman of her self control and she collapsed into his arms, under some kind of _spell_.

“Let me carry you to bed,” he whispered, picking her up. As Ellison laid her across the fresh sheets, the young woman’s eyes fluttered open, catching a glance of her handbag. She saw it there, shoved halfway under the foot of the bed.

 _He’s too strong,_ she thought.

Ellison straddled her. Nude and helpless, she remained on the bed as if drugged beyond defense. His hands slid from her shoulders to her neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a voice that glittered through her ears like a soft light moving in and out of pure darkness. The young woman had a difficult time forming a response.

Suddenly, Ellison’s grip on her neck tightened. She heard a deep, disturbing growl. Peering up at his face she saw his soft, cream-colored cheeks were now twisted into a predatory grin. Ellison’s eyes flashed red as he hissed and barred his teeth, revealing very sharp fangs that she hadn’t noticed before. The young woman tried to scream, but Ellison’s monstrous restraint around her neck choked her voice back into a place somewhere far beyond the reaches of sound. Her screams fell deeper and deeper into herself, forced into a place where she remained mute.

Then he squeezed her neck even harder. The young woman felt his powerful fingers dig into her skin, snapping and crushing the tendons of her neck. He jerked her head to the right, and a hot pain blasted through her throat as his fangs plunged into her jugular. She felt herself slowly fade away as he sapped her like a tree. The young woman’s eyes fluttered and blood ran down her neck, staining the sheets below.

Ellison drank until she no longer moved. He kept a vigilant watch as her eyes dilated permanently, frozen in place with a certain Death that now took control of her body.

Ellison tasted the final beat of the young woman’s heart.

* * *

Satiated, the vampire sighed happily and lifted the dead body from the blood-soaked sheets. He placed it on the floor, intending to strip the bed and dispose of the evidence. The young woman’s body remained motionless at the foot of the bed.

Ellison pulled up the bloody sheets and carried them into the bathroom. There, he dropped them into the bathtub and searched his pants’ pocket for a book of matches. Upon finding them, Ellison struck the first match, it sparked, then fizzled. He tried a second match – fizzled. Striking a third match, this time not a dud, he grinned as it blazed confidently at its tip. Then Ellison flicked the match into the pile of stained sheets.

Pleased with himself, Ellison watched the fire spread slowly across the fabric. It bubbled when it reached the blood, creating an all too appetizing aroma as the smoke rose to the vampire’s nose. The flames quickly grew, bursting upward and licking at the air. The entire scenario created a type of warmth that the vampire’s skin could never entirely be too comfortable with.

Then, Ellison felt a new sensation.

Pain.

Sudden, intense pain. Sharp and tapering, knife-like – through his chest.

Confused, he cried out. What he felt in his chest, he knew the pain came from his heart. It swelled and burst, causing a warm flow of blood, then absorbed into his clothing. Reaching toward the flames, Ellison looked down at the blood, horrified to find what caused such pain: a briery piece of wood poked through his bloody shirt. Ellison realized that it pierced not only his chest but his back too.

It went straight through him.

Ellison turned and froze at what he saw. It was another young woman. She was not the same woman he met this evening.

“I’ve been following you,” she said. “I followed the two of you from the pub. I know exactly what you are.”

“Well if you are here to save her then you are too late!” snapped Ellison. Blood bubbled from his mouth upon utterance of the word “late.”

“I’m not here to save her,” said the woman. “I don’t even know who she is. All I know is that you have money and lots of it. And you’re at a disadvantage right now. I hid the stakes in her handbag. Back at the pub. Neither of you took notice.”

The woman stood there, brows furrowed, poised with the handbag that the dead girl carried. She was compelled to reach in and withdraw another stake. Ellison had yet to collapse from his attack. She was determined to finish him off.

“You shall die!” he cried out.

“Not likely,” she teased. Her eyes remained fixed upon the vampire as he bled in front of her.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m just a crafty human who has no qualms about stealing from dead vampires,” she replied.

The woman pulled another stake from the handbag.

“Woman!” he cried out angrily. “You are a cow! You are food! That is what humans are! But _vampires_ are immortal!”

“My name is Wendy,” she corrected the vampire. Then she lunged forward, driving the stake into his chest. The impact knocked him backward into the flames. His skin caught fire and bubbled. It spat pieces of flesh across the bathroom, splattering onto the walls. The flames burst forward through his chest, exploding out through his skull, rupturing the vampire’s head.

“Vampires are not immortal,” Wendy argued as Ellison burned.

“You die just fine…”

* * *

This was how Wendy got by. Ellison was a vampire, among the millions that existed. Typically, vampires had a wealth of money. Despite vampires’ boasts of being immortal, she knew that this was a lie and they could, in fact, be killed. When she spotted Ellison at the pub, she immediately suspected he was a vampire. Maybe it was the way he moved or the clothing he wore. She saw how easily he attracted humans to him. And since she typically lived without any money, aside from knocking over liquor stores or pick-pocketing, she realized how easily she could capitalize on unofficial vampire hunting. She hated vampires and she needed money. Two birds with one stone, she thought. And to Wendy’s fortune, Ellison had large amounts of money, plus his own estate. Now it was hers, for the time being. Searching Ellison’s pockets, Wendy stole his credit cards and cash. She also snatched the keys to his car.

“ _Jackpot_ ,” she whispered.

It had been a long time since she slept under a roof. Months, perhaps. Just then, a knock came at the hotel room door. It was the champagne Ellison ordered at the front desk.

 _A lot of good that would do_ , thought Wendy.

She was left with one dead human and a combusted vampire. Despite these setbacks, it was indeed time to celebrate. She left the bathroom and closed the door. Behind her the flames died down around the remaining ashes of bloodied sheets and vampire carcass. She answered the door.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the champagne bottle right from the cart. “You don’t need to wheel that in. I got it. I know how to un-cork and pour. Just put it on his credit card that went with the room, ok?”

“Yes ma’am,” nodded the attendant. Then he promptly wheeled the cart off down the hall.

* * *

“How are you today, Wendy?” asked Dr. Sun.

Sun was Wendy’s therapist. After so many years, it became a requirement. The state paid for it, as Wendy had been on some sort of government aid. She wasn’t entirely sure why. And she wasn’t entirely _good_ at keeping up with her appointments. Nevertheless, Wendy tried to see Dr. Sun when she could, or rather when she felt like it.

“Tired,” replied Wendy. “I had a long night.”

“Tell me about it.”

Wendy paused.

“I can’t divulge all of the details but I met a man.”

Dr. Sun smiled. “And how did that go for you?”

“It went well, actually,” said Wendy. “It went the way I wanted it to go. Sometimes things happen that you just don’t expect.”

“Yes,” nodded Dr. Sun. “So how are other things in your life?”

Wendy didn’t respond.

“Are you still having a tough time getting close to people, Wendy?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Would you like to talk about it? This is your time…”

“I fear opening up to others. I can’t cope with the risks involved. I don’t care for people much.”

Dr. Sun nodded, waiting for Wendy to elaborate. She never did.

“Your self esteem issues will not improve overnight, but you must remain confident. You need to branch out Wendy. It’s good that you met a man last night. It’s good that you achieved that kind of interaction. But you need to meet more people. You must find some balance. Some support.”

“Every interaction I have with a person is frightening,” said Wendy quietly. “It doesn’t matter if it will destroy me or not – that is what I fear. I fear social interaction. I fear other people.”

“Facing your fears is what life is all about,” reminded Dr. Sun.

“And life is too long…” Wendy replied.

* * *

After a few hours of cleaning and popping allergy medications, Wendy found herself sitting alone in Ellison’s mansion speaking aloud to no one. She ran over various conversations in her head, some between she and people she knew, others between she and people she had yet to meet. This happened often, as she generally spent long hours alone. She spoke of things she wished she had said, rehearsed things she wanted to say, and argued at times without anyone there to challenge her. It never used to be quite as bad as this. It became worse over the years.

“Maladaptive Daydreaming coupled with Social Phobia,” was the diagnosis applied to her. It wasn’t quite schizophrenia, being that she was aware that she was alone as these conversations took place. But sometimes the daydreaming was so powerful that it didn’t matter. Wendy felt a little out of control…

“I’ve done it in front of people,” she remembered telling Dr. Sun.

_I look crazy._

Sun reassured Wendy that it’s a common reaction to extreme isolation and post traumatic stress disorder. She cautioned Wendy to monitor her public behavior better. The doctor advised her to avoid embarrassment so as to not quadruple her self esteem issues. Wendy was truly alone and spent many long years becoming accustomed to her solitude. It was hard to stay silent – she had seen too many gruesome things. These things were directly related to her interactions with vampires. And her memories were numerous and vivid, overflowing from within. She never told Sun about the vampires; she didn’t want to risk the threat of a schizophrenia diagnosis. Though, often enough, she questioned her past issues with the creatures. She wondered if they were truly real or just delusions. They seemed very real, so Wendy believed them to be. Their lives and their homes and their money just fell into her hands. She ended their lives, commandeered their homes, and took their money. Were they real?

There just weren’t enough therapists in the world to know.

* * *

“Dead bodies are heavy,” huffed Wendy.

She dragged a corpse out through the cellar door of Ellison’s mansion. The cellar was filled with dead humans. She was cleaning out the cellar and the removal of dead bodies was the hardest part. Even in one day, she could not remove them all. The head thumped and bounced hitting each step as she pulled it up the cellar stairs by its feet. For her, this was physically exhausting. Ellison must have had dozens of bodies rotting down in the cellar. To her disadvantage, none of them were small children.

She wondered if he fed daily or skipped meals. Judging by the headcount in the cellar, she doubted that he skipped. He _was_ a doctor. He had money, which was now hers, and he was handsome. These were his house meals. Vampires did this kind of thing – like stocking a pantry. Ellison kept them in the cellar captive. They were kept down there alive – but none were living anymore. That was why he was on the prowl the night she met him. He must have run out of living flesh. He probably fed on the last standing human in the cellar, abandoning it to rot down below. And oh how they rotted. Still intact, of course, but the skin fell off very easily. Bugs have already crawled through the bodies, swarming happily like patrons in a buffet line.

The cellar was large and the bodies went on forever. Limbs overlapped limbs. Heads poked up beyond the wave of torsos, and toes and fingers outstretched every few yards or so. Wendy sighed at all the work that was ahead of her. And she could not do this at night. The cellar had no light bulbs or lamps. She had to open up the large doors and allow the sun light to flood across the mounds of grey flesh in need of removal.

“Fucking vampires,” she grumbled, sweating.

She tried not to breathe in the gagging aroma of dead skin.

“They live like filthy animals, surrounded by things that rot.”

Wendy transported the last of the bodies she planned to remove today. The sun already went down and she found herself disliking the idea of traipsing through a dark cellar brimming with corpses. Plus there were just too many and it would take a week or more to get the whole area emptied out. She dragged the body to a wood pile out back. Conveniently enough, Wendy found some wood in the cellar to build it.

“I’m glad we don’t have neighbors,” she said as she stuffed paper and leaves in between the wood. When finished, she lit the paper and leaves, watching it catch and spread throughout the mound of stale limbs and sunken faces. But Wendy couldn’t feel any remorse. She was beyond that. She had seen this sight countless times. It was the final result for victims of a vampire. She didn’t blame them, but it was just so commonplace. Feeling a little less human, she disposed of the victims quite casually. She simply internalized it, forgetting that they were once people.

Once, she paid the price for her compassion. The first time she moved into a vampire’s home, he had this same problem: bodies in the basement. It was a regular house, though secluded in the woods. No one was around for miles to hear the screams. But Wendy heard screams as soon as she entered his home. Not everyone in the basement was dead. There was one woman, screaming and begging to be let go. Wendy panicked, having never realized they kept live victims in captivity. She raced to the basement door, determined to save the woman trapped below.

“Let me out!” the woman cried. Her wails interspersed with curses and moans.

Wendy unlocked the door and whipped it open, crying out to the woman as she raced down the staircase.

“I’m here! I’m here! I will free you!” she yelled to the woman.

But the woman had other plans. As soon as Wendy descended the stairs, a baseball bat swung through the air and hit her across the face. She doubled over in a black haze and dropped to the ground. Her vision blurred and spun out of control. The frantic victim fled up the stairs, shouting and crying, now loose upon the world with madness. The horrors that she had seen escaped her lips with frantic cries.

Wendy’s head bled across the concrete of an unfinished basement. And to her own horror she realized she was surrounded by the ghostly faces of dead bodies. And there she lay – in a mass grave deep within a vampire’s house. She knew that as soon as she lost consciousness, she would awaken to the same twisted faces in the dark.

Wendy hated vampires, despite her reliance upon them. But she had to kill them for survival. Admittedly, as years went on she looked forward to shoving their open caskets into sunlight, driving stakes through their chests, and decapitating them in their sleep. She even pushed them face-first into buckets of holy water, submerging their heads until the wild flailing ceased. That drowned out their howls and hisses. Each time Wendy was less surprised that they could so easily die.

As Wendy sat outside of Ellison’s home, burning dead bodies like it was damn near a holiday tradition, she spotted something crawling across the estate grounds.

It was thin and hairless.

The figure crept across the property awkwardly like a machine. It seemed too afraid to get close to the fire. From afar, Wendy noticed it looked bony and starved, but moved swiftly. Her heart raced and she threw herself to the ground, hiding behind the flames. The thing chattered and clicked as it moved closer to the fire.

 _It must have gained some confidence_ , thought Wendy.

She was uncertain if it saw her. The thing moved about the grass inquisitively, unfamiliar with its surroundings.

_What the hell was it?_

Wendy dropped to the ground and army-crawled back toward the mansion, pulling her body through the damp, cold grass. It froze her arms right through the sleeves and stained her shirt with green and brown. The thing still lurked behind the flames, clicking away like some kind of enthused insect.

Wendy had no choice but to crawl toward the cellar and hide. But it was dark in there, so she had to be careful. Climbing gracefully down the cellar stairs, she moved down into the darkness. Quietly shutting the doors, Wendy hoped that thing didn’t see her. She noticed there was a big enough crack in the cellar doors to peek through and monitor the creature. And so she moved closer to the door, peering through the crack. Wendy saw the creature inch closer to the fire. Details were difficult to make out between the dancing shadows of flames.

_It looks sick. Diseased, maybe._

The horrible thing circled the bonfire, inspecting the bodies as they burned. Then it glanced at the cellar doors where Wendy hid. She bit her lip, trying not to move, not to breathe. The creature clicked a little louder as it moved around the flames. Then it jerkily moved closer to the doors. Wendy’s body went stiff and she closed her eyes, terrified. The thing moved closer and closer, making a dreadful clicking sound.

Wendy blinked open her eyes for a moment and caught a closer look at it. She did not recognize what it was. It had large white eyes, lit up like headlights in the night. No hair. There was just a smooth scalp with pointed ears. Its face was thin and the mouth was wide from cheek to cheek. The mouth opened in a broad circle and the creature clicked again. It had pointed teeth, like that of a leech. Horrified, Wendy stepped back and knocked over a large stack of wood. It crashed and clattered and she cried out, startled from the noise.

The thing stopped moving.

Ears perked, it approached the cellar door.

Wendy scrambled away from the door and caught her foot on the elbow of a dead person. She fell backward into a pile of bodies, pushing herself along them hastily. She moved farther and farther back into the cellar, now surrounded by pitch black. She saw the far off, vertical glint of light between the cellar doors. It grew smaller and smaller as she moved backwards over the cadavers. Her hand reached back and she felt a dried, rotted face. The corpse’s teeth scraped against her fingertips.

Wendy stifled a scream.

She continued to reach back, crab-crawling farther away. That thing was out there, clicking. It was so close to the doors that she heard it sniff around the wood. She decided to lay down low so that she could hide. Wendy pushed a body over and squeezed herself down between it and a neighboring cadaver.

The creature outside clicked louder and louder. Then it smacked open the doors. As they swung open it flooded the cellar with moonlight. Wendy no longer saw pitch black, but the face of a dead man, eyeless and gaunt. He was very close to her, rotted in a frozen stare on the left side of her head. His twisted mouth was an inch from her ear. She heard the bugs that crawled down deep in his throat. Screaming, Wendy scrambled away from the infested body and the creature caught sight of her. It dashed into the cellar and the doors slammed shut.

Darkness returned.

Meanwhile, Wendy knelt into an abdomen and its brittle ribs cracked under her weight. Her knees broke through, entering a decayed void. Then, she felt the tickling rush of panicked insects as they scrambled over her knees. Wendy forced herself not to scream, or that thing would hear her.

In the darkness, it clicked louder. Wendy strained to hear from which direction. Then, she heard it move, climbing along the floor of dead bodies. She saw nothing but the glint of the cellar door. It did not provide enough light. That thing was well beyond the reach of the stairs.

It now moved across the bodies in the dark.

Wendy remained where she was, kneeling through the chest cavity of a corpse. She held herself and shook violently, wondering if the vampires were real. She wondered if this creature was real. She wondered, just for a moment, if the dead bodies were a result of her own violence. In this dark place, Wendy convinced herself that perhaps she was mad.

_This creature is not real._

_Vampires are not real._

She convinced herself that she was sick. She must have murdered these people. These were the bodies of the “vampires” she met. Through her own twisted logic, she thought she was doing something good. But now, in a dark, desperate moment, Wendy decided that she had done something evil. If that meant she could wish away the unholy thing crawling and clicking in the darkness of the cellar, then she wished it away by her admission to madness.

The clicking stopped.

Relieved, Wendy took a breath. There was no sound. She felt alone. At peace. Wendy reassured herself that she would confess what she had done. She would seek help, seek medication, seek something – _anything_. She would ask Dr. Sun what to do – yes – Dr. Sun would help Wendy. Wendy preferred the unknown of psychiatrics, versus the unknown of her delusions.

Her vivid, frightening delusions.

**Click.**

… _Just ignore it._

**Click, click, click.**

… _It isn’t real._

**Click.**

**Click.**

Wendy reminded herself it wasn’t really happening as the clicking grew louder and closer. She repeated her mantra until something breathed its leech breath right in her ear. As the thing’s claws gripped her throat, she imagined herself waking up from her hallucination any time now.

And as it ripped at her flesh, still clicking in her ear, Wendy wasn’t so sure anymore…

The End.


End file.
